


Untitled Document.

by Raz0reyes



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Animal Death, Death, Graphic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raz0reyes/pseuds/Raz0reyes
Summary: I don’t remember writing this, so maybe I didn’t.





	Untitled Document.

Do you hear the wind? As it rustles through the trees. Cool, chilling to touch below the skin. Leaves are barren, gone to dirt, compost for the forest floor. 

Can you smell the burning? The taste of ash flooding your mouth as wood engulfs in flame. You feel nothing but ice looking up, overhead the red moon stares down, angry. Can you feel it’s pain? Do you understand you are going to die? How lucky you are to witness death with I.

The sky’s eyes open as the moon cries down on you, thick heavy blood pouring out and flooding the forest, quenching the rage of flames in a flood of sorrow. The stars tear up at the moon's agony, beginning to cry acid, in solidarity and compassion, aiding to add volume to the screams below.

A backwards headed buck runs sideways off a cliff, he continues to run as he plummets. Forever chasing, forever running. His head cracks against the stone wall. Antlers snapping with his neck as it sets right. He sees the sky no more, his wails and cries forever drone down. Down. Down. Down. Down. Down.

A flock of robins choke out a dying song, a symphony of screeche. Their little lungs pushed past their beaks dangling down, tangling worn the twigs and anchoring the birds in a leash of pain. Some popped, flatting, inflating, hanging as they bloat with air spraying droplets of blood over the soaked trees. Slowly they die, a few hop febbly, limp wings flutter, softly splinter against the branches, 

A mother bear lay dead as her Cubs rip through her womb, tiny claws and maws wailing to the bleeding sky as they enter the dying world. Crawling out into the wet snow, red with blood, acid stinging their new pink flesh. 

The Cubs scream to fill the void the robins had left in the dying forest. Decay in birth. They lay in their mothers' clawed open womb, laying head to head, the bodies of the family becoming one deep red puddle. Forever at rest.

Can you feel the sickness? Thick in the air, heavy in your gut. See the flies clouding above to catch the red rain. There is only the screech of insects now, the scent of rot in the air, decay in your lungs, laying on your tongue. Swallow. Die with us. Can you feel them on you? Under your skin? Inside your soul? Let them consume you. Come back to me, so we can be reborn. And we can die together again.


End file.
